


Dancing With Death

by pagerunner



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagerunner/pseuds/pagerunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While visiting Afterlife to seek out a mercenary target, Thane suggests some dancing lessons for Shepard -- but when his demonstration actually begins to involve the mercenary in question, things get a little more complicated. Set partway through ME2, starring the same iteration of Shepard as in Flashpoint, also posted here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing With Death

Shepard had never been much for dancing.

Standing here in Afterlife, waiting at a railing above the crowded dance floor, she felt the relentless bass vibrate up through the floor. She wished, for once, that she really knew what to do with it. Maybe it was the effect of the drinks. She had, admittedly, had a couple. Maybe it was simply the intensity of the music, or the energy of the crowd.  
  
Or maybe it was because she was standing beside Thane.  
  
The assassin was calmly scanning the crowd, looking for their target -- a mercenary with, by all accounts, a dubious task list at hand. Shepard was ostensibly doing the same as Thane, although she suspected that with her current set of distractions, Thane was making better headway. _Delegation_ , she told herself, although she knew it was an excuse. "Any signs?" she asked regardless, almost into his ear. They had to stand close for any sound to compete with the music. Shepard felt the subtle bump of his shoulder, the warmth of him there.  
  
"So far, no. Although if you don't mind me saying so…."  
  
Shepard could tell what was coming. "Lay it on me, Thane."  
  
"You seem to be more interested in the dancers than the mercenaries."  
  
She snorted, tearing her gaze away from a limber young man who'd sauntered closer to an asari wearing little more than scraps and wishful thinking. "I'll say this much," she conceded. "If anyone ever tells you human women aren't as, hmm, _visual_ as men, don't believe it."  
  
Thane smiled subtly. "That might explain a few things."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
Despite her suspicious look, he didn't answer. His gaze was back on the crowd. They were standing in sufficient shadow that no one below should notice them, at least; Thane was good at finding such vantage points. Below them, fire-tinted lights spun dizzy over the crowd.  
  
Shepard noticed Thane shift his hips, unconsciously in time with the music. She asked a question almost as involuntary: "You know, I wondered… do you dance?"  
  
He looked sideways at her. Shepard realized that might have sounded like an invitation, and while part of her might have meant it, she rephrased it.  
  
"I mean. Academic question. It just seems like you'd be good at it."  
  
That faint smile was still on his lips. Thane turned, though, looking out across the crowd again.  
  
"It's a different sort of discipline. This sort of dancing, in fact… it used to strike me as _too_ undisciplined."  
  
"Stick-in-the-mud," she said, nudging him with an elbow. He took that in stride.  
  
"I was always taught to move with a direct purpose," he explained. "To accomplish a goal, as efficiently and quickly as possible. Besides, the soul and the body stay very separate, in what I do. Dance is all about expression."  
  
That much, she supposed she understood. Shepard still gave him a look. "Sounds like you've thought about this before."  
  
"I've had occasion." His smile went softer and a little distant. "Irikah was a dancer."  
  
"Oh," Shepard said, feeling almost guilty now for bringing it up -- and for how her gaze had been sliding over him while he spoke. Thane, though, didn't seem to notice, or at least to mind.  
  
"She didn't dance like this, I should say," Thane elaborated, gesturing toward that asari Shepard had noticed: the tall, slim, surprisingly small-breasted one in the center of the floor. "Although she could, of course. But professionally… I suppose you could think of it more like your ballet."  
  
"And that's popular with the hanar?"  
  
Thane chuckled briefly, low in his throat. "Not exactly, but that was the point. Hanar culture is nearly impenetrable to most of the galaxy. If they're playing hosts to visitors from elsewhere, they need someone to help bridge the gap. Ambassadors. Interpreters. Entertainers. The Compact covers vocations like those just as much as it did mine."  
  
Shepard raised an eyebrow. "So we're talking about official functions? That must have been a job with some prestige."  
  
"Oh, it was."  
  
"And she must have been good," Shepard said, more quietly. Thane didn't reply right away. His eyes had flickered oddly, and his pose went so still, so careful, that she suspected he'd flashed onto a memory. Some took him silently, and they seemed to be the most purely emotional of the lot.  
  
She was on the verge of apologizing when Thane lifted his head. His expression was still level, but his voice had slipped into reverberant tones even the music couldn't mask. "She did teach me a few things about dance," he said. "Some more disciplined than others."  
  
Shepard flashed onto her own set of mental images then, and any number of metaphors. She found she couldn't say much of anything at all.  
  
She finally cleared her throat, making herself look over the railing again. They were supposed to be keeping an eye out for a particular Eclipse merc, although the indistinct lighting and the constant swirl of motion made it difficult to pick out one face from another -- which was likely why the place was so popular. She silently made note of a conversing couple by the bar, and was about to cross-check a photo on her omnitool when she felt Thane change position beside her.  
  
"We might have better luck approaching our target," he said, "if we were out on the dance floor."  
  
"Both of us?" Shepard asked dryly. "You aren't expecting me to blunder in like a drunken elcor and send everyone running?"  
  
He sounded amused at the prospect. "Perhaps you could use some pointers first."  
  
"Fabulous," Shepard began, her voice still sardonic. "You know, I..."  
  
His hands landed on her shoulders. Shepard stopped talking.  
  
"You don't need to learn anything complicated, not for this. The most important thing is just finding the rhythm. You're feeling it, aren't you?"  
  
She was, although with somewhat less potency than a few moments ago. The warmth of his palms had proven distracting. _Focus_ , she snapped at herself. "Of course."  
  
"Mostly in your chest, I imagine?"  
  
Shepard put one hand to her breastbone, which she supposed answered him well enough. The bass did echo with the most potency there, and she found herself counting, trying to measure the beat. She wasn't entirely musically inept. She'd had a teacher break down the mathematics of it once, in fact, and it had felt oddly comforting to know that it wasn't all just mysterious inspiration and intuition: there still were logical underpinnings to the whole thing.  
  
It helped her concentrate while Thane held her, still softly asking questions.  
  
"Now. If you're going to move with it, where do you feel the impulse first? Your shoulders? Feet? Hips?"  
  
"I… admit I'm not entirely sure."  
  
Thane smiled. His hands moved, too, dropping lightly to her hips. "Then start here. Find your center. Let the rest of you follow."  
  
Shepard thought about moving, and did, just barely, under the encouraging pressure of his fingers. But standing this close, under so intent a gaze, she felt ridiculous. Not to mention distracted. Thane noticed. "You're tense," he said, his voice low.  
  
"Um. I guess."  
  
Her throat went dry when Thane leaned closer, still holding her, and murmured, "Want to watch me first?"  
  
His head had tipped subtly toward the dance floor. Shepard nodded slowly. "Fine," she said, trying to keep her voice crisp. She wasn't sure if she'd managed it. She reached up, however, to tap her headset. "I'll stay in touch."  
  
"As you will, Commander," he said, with a touch of subtle irony around her title that really would have led to her threatening to dock his pay, if he were getting paid. Then he let go.  
  
She felt that a little more keenly than she ought, but at least what happened next was sufficiently diverting. When he shrugged out of his jacket and folded it neatly over the railing, it bared his arms, showing darker stripes of color she hadn't known were there. It also showed off every bit of the firm musculature beneath. The lights glinted intriguingly off his scales in a long, rippling shimmer. She had to admit, she was impressed.  
  
But she didn't have much time to watch, because swiftly and gracefully, he'd stepped away.  
  
Shepard took in a deep breath, trying to will away the shiver that had just gone through her. Instead, she took his advice -- just for a different purpose this time -- and concentrated very hard indeed on centering herself. She pointedly ignored his jacket beside her, and how warm the fabric would undoubtedly feel if she touched it, and stared at the dance floor instead.  
  
Once she'd really focused, she noticed something.  
  
That asari she'd seen before had managed to conceal -- almost -- a small weapon in the band of her barely-there skirt. And the club's lights had just sliced across her skin, revealing half of a tattooed symbol on her shoulder. Shepard recognized the logo instantly. "Thane," she said sharply, activating her comm. She wasn't going to need to cross-reference any photos after all. "I've spotted..."  
  
She stopped just as suddenly as she'd begun. Thane was already on the floor, stalking slowly but with determination toward the very same woman. He only moved like that when he had a target. He already knew.  
  
 _Sly bastard_ , she thought, not without some appreciation. Then she realized what he was doing.  
  
He wasn't only approaching to draw their target out of the crowd. He really did mean to dance with her first.  
  
It didn't take long to get the asari's attention. He was, after all, the only drell in the building, and was eye-catching merely for that -- which was part of why he kept to the shadows so often. But when making a deliberate appearance like this, he was more than just a curiosity. He was utterly compelling. Shepard watched him slide into the woman's orbit, and then completely redefine it, because it wasn't long before all of her attention was on him.  
  
Then he really started to move.  
  
Shepard's hands tightened around the railing as his hips found the rhythm, moving with a sensual fluidity she'd never be able to match. The asari gave him a sidelong look, obviously interested in what she saw. They stepped closer together, at first still independent enough to be showing off for the other's benefit, and then, off some subtle signal Shepard didn't quite catch, they spun close enough to touch.  
  
Thane's hands met her skin lightly, making at least the pretense of discretion. The asari didn't reject the touch; she curved into it, in fact, with apparent enthusiasm. Thane's touch slowly grew bolder after that. Shepard supposed it was worth approaching this by grades -- both of these people were well-trained fighters, after all, and any unwanted touch would probably lead to broken bones at best.  
  
They'd rapidly moved past that, however, and were _really_ dispensing with the formalities.  
  
Shepard watched as they moved even closer, as the woman's shoulders rolled and her limber body arched closer. Then she turned, leaning back against Thane with evident pleasure. His hand slid slowly down the length of her torso. Shepard studied the intimate contrast of his fingers over the woman's skin, and swallowed a sudden rush of emotions. One of them felt like an unexpected jolt of jealousy.  
  
 _That's not why you're working with him_ , she reminded herself sharply. _You're supposed to be partners, and you're his commander, not--_  
  
The asari spun around again, twining her arms around Thane and insinuating one leg between his. His body's answering arch was so unabashedly erotic that Shepard's own core flushed with sympathetic warmth.  
  
 _Damn it,_ she thought, and tapped her comm again, saying with pinched irritation, "I'm not sure actually fucking her first is necessary, Krios."  
  
He didn't reply -- couldn't, while standing that close, and Shepard had to count on the volume of the music to keep her own transmission from the asari's attention. Still, Thane glanced up Shepard's direction, and gave the shadows in which she stood a deliberate smirk.  
  
She was seriously going to kick his ass once they got back to the Normandy.  
  
Fortunately, she didn't have to remind him to get the hell on with it, because he'd leaned in again to whisper something in the asari's ear. Shepard couldn't tell what he was saying to her; he'd left his comm channel closed. So she just watched, waiting, as the crowd moved again and suddenly obscured her line of sight. The music had shifted, and the lights swept away before returning in a shuddering, disconcerting pulse.  
  
By the time Shepard blinked the spots out of her vision, Thane and their Eclipse target were nowhere in sight.  
  
"Damn it," she said, aloud this time, and activated her comm again. "Thane. What's your twenty?"  
  
There was still no reply.  
  
Shepard swore again, cast her gaze across the floor, and saw, in a sudden flash, two departing silhouettes by the door that led to the back stairs. The image wasn't clear, but intuition said _follow_ as sharply as if Thane actually had said the word into her ear.  
  
Shepard was in motion in an instant, leaving his coat and their private vantage point behind.  
  
She had to shoulder her way through a good portion of the crowd, which she was much better at than the dancing itself. One look at her determined, scarred face, and most people simply moved aside of their own accord. Shepard got to the door in record time considering the obstacles, and then emerged into the open air -- or whatever counted for air on Omega. It stank out here, of things other than smoke and too many bodies, and she didn't want to identify most of the particulars. Shepard swiped at her nose, trying to scrub away the sting of it, and zeroed in again on her moving targets. She'd spotted them near the end of the corridor, and took off at a jog to catch up.  
  
Thane was moving the woman down a service hallway, if she weren't mistaken, and she needed to hurry if she didn't want to lose them both.  
  
There was, at least, a quick blip of sound over her comm: a wordless signal that they'd agreed on beforehand. The two-tone sound could be triggered by touch and meant, simply, _status acceptable_. They had another one for requesting backup, another to warn the other person away. Shepard tapped her link for the _on my way_ signal, no matter if he hadn't flashed the _backup needed_ message. She sure as hell was still intending to show up.  
  
She was also keeping an eye out for anyone else along the way. This woman was Eclipse, and Eclipse mercs weren't stupid. Reckless sometimes, but not stupid. Unless the prospect of a particularly appealing booty call had scrambled her common sense.  
  
Shepard had to admit, considering her own state of mind, that that was a distinct possibility right about now.  
  
"Come on, Thane," she muttered, while she made her way up the maintenance-alley steps. "We don't need to take the woman on the _entire_ not-so-scenic tour..." Then she cut off, because she'd spotted them again, and she ducked behind a post before she could give away her own position. Thane had found a nicely sheltered spot and backed the asari up against a wall. Given the way the woman was laughing throatily, she wasn't protesting.  
  
" _You're_ eager," she said, still twining her way as close to Thane as possible. Her hips twisted suggestively. "Mmm. So is it true what they say about drell endurance?"  
  
Shepard, who hadn't heard what the proverbial _they_ said about drell endurance, but was now going to be wondering about it forever, damn it anyway, bit her lip and reached for her weapon. She'd just noticed that Thane's hand had slipped around to the small of the woman's back, close to the asari's own gun. Things were about to get very interesting, one way or another.  
  
"Funny thing about rumor," Thane said, while he pressed just enough to urge her against him -- and to give his hand some room to move. "Sometimes it's wildly wrong. Sometimes…."  
  
His voice had slid into such a sensual purr that Shepard almost couldn't breathe. This wasn't his usual style. She half wondered if he was doing it for her benefit, which was oddly unsettling.  
  
"It doesn't even begin to tell the whole story," Thane said.  
  
Then, before Shepard could even begin to follow the motion, Thane pulled the gun from the asari's belt and pointed it at her forehead.  
  
For a moment there was dead silence. Then the woman laughed again, in a far lower, crueler tone. "Oh," she said. "Oh, my. I think I'm actually disappointed."  
  
Thane didn't say anything. Shepard stood at attention, her own gun at the ready. Her nerves were alert enough that she could feel the charge in the air a split second before the mercenary's biotics flared to life, knocking Thane's hand aside. The gun went flying. Then the woman stepped forward from the wall, pushing Thane back a step.  
  
"Did you honestly think that any biotic could ever _truly_ be disarmed?" she asked.  
  
Thane's brow quirked. "No," he said levelly, and Shepard felt another wave of energy as his own biotics surged.  
  
He wasn't as strong biotically as the mercenary was, but it was clearly enough to get the job done. The woman was knocked off balance, enough that Thane could grab her again, pinning her arms behind her back and holding her fast. Again, but much more harshly than before, he spoke in her ear.  
  
"I was trained by far craftier adepts than you, Vaia T'Karr," he said.  
  
Shepard watched closely, her own biotic energy prickling just beneath her skin, her finger lingering on the trigger. She was closely aware of both Thane and the mercenary, and the other details of their immediate surroundings. She'd just seen a flicker of motion in the rafters. It could have been a maintenance mech moving past. She doubted it.  
  
Shepard shifted her stance and aimed.  
  
"I know what you've been planning," Thane said. "And it would be in your best interests to--"  
  
"What? Hand over my contacts? Give you all my ill-gotten profits? I don't think so." Vaia's laugh this time was scornful. "You dance better than you plan, drell. You're in over your head."  
  
The motion above was unmistakable now. Shepard glimpsed the silhouette of a weapon moving into position. Shepard stopped waiting, and fired. Vaia jumped -- Thane didn't even flinch -- as the Eclipse merc above them, sniper rifle still in her hands, fell like so much dead weight to the floor.  
  
Shepard stepped out of the shadows just in time to see Vaia's look of surprise turn into unbridled hatred.  
  
"You," the merc spat.  
  
"Me," Shepard agreed calmly. This time, it was her gun casually trained on the asari's head. "Now, before I decide to take your crimes against the Alliance very, very personally, how about you hand over the data chip?"  
  
"You really think I've got it on me?" Vaia said. Her confidence, Shepard suspected, was starting to crack. It took another hit when Thane twisted her wrist for a better look.  
  
"No," he said. "I think you've got it _in_ you."  
  
"Subdermal?" Shepard asked casually.  
  
"You two are paranoid freaks," Vaia said, but Thane had found the implant scar. Shepard walked up and thrust her omnitool over Vaia's wrist, letting the hacking program EDI had installed go to work.  
  
"I could have just cut it out first, you know," Shepard said conversationally, while text started to scroll across Shepard's display: the names and locations of all the people Vaia had been contracted to eliminate. Shepard's stomach clenched. The scope of it was worse than she'd thought. "This is the polite method."  
  
"Oh, sure," Vaia grit out. "And you're just going to let me walk after this?"  
  
"Probably not," Thane said.  
  
The asari twisted around just enough to glare at him. "You're no better than I am, you know. I can tell you're an assassin. You think you can pretend what you're doing is any different from me?"  
  
Shepard saw the name of a sergeant she knew flash past on her display. Her voice went cold. "It doesn't even begin to compare."  
  
"Self-righteous bitch," Vaia spat. With another sudden, violent blast of blue, she wrenched herself out of Thane's grip.  
  
The shockwave was enough to knock Shepard back several feet. She landed hard and with a pained shout, dropping her weapon, but she'd already called her own power up to lift it back into her grip. Then she heard a sudden, discordant blare in one ear -- Thane's comm setting off a wordless warning. Shepard wrenched herself around, away from Vaia.  
  
A third merc had come up behind them, holding her own gun and Vaia's both.  
  
Shepard yelled and kicked one leg up, knocking the asari's aim off just enough that the shots blasted into the ceiling. Then, without even thinking about it, Shepard ducked, turned again and fired.  
  
Just as Thane vaulted over her and drove the third merc to the floor, Shepard saw Vaia scream out in pain and collapse, clutching her shoulder. Blood welled up between her fingers.  
  
Without even looking to find out if Thane had handled the other merc -- Shepard could tell from the little choked-off cry, and then silence, that he had -- she got up again and yanked Vaia to her feet.  
  
"Enough damn games," Shepard ground out. "Tell us who you're working for."  
  
Vaia swore so raggedly that Shepard's translator couldn't make sense of it. "Who do you think?" she said at last. "Goddess...."  
  
Her face contorted in pain. Shepard let go, letting Vaia stumble onto her feet and loosening the pressure on the wound. Thane, who'd taken the opportunity to come back around again and face her, was looking less forgiving.  
  
"I doubt your goddess would be at all pleased with what you're doing," he said.  
  
"Yeah?" Vaia said thickly, looking at the bodies of her two dead compatriots. "And do you really think you're square with yours?"  
  
Thane stared into Vaia's eyes, the gaze long and impenetrable. Shepard, on instinct, stepped back and held her breath.  
  
Vaia whispered something, too quietly for anyone but Thane to hear.  
  
Then Thane reached out, took Vaia's face almost tenderly between his hands -- and swiftly twisted. There was a crack.  
  
Vaia silently fell.  
  
Shepard watched Thane in that moment. She was still breathless, buzzing with adrenaline and biotic energy -- and, admittedly, the lingering warmth of what had gone before. Thane's eyes were dark, his body tensed, his whole form still radiating power. She trembled throughout, at an utter loss for words.  
  
Then he bowed his head, and his whole stance changed. Vaia wasn't able to hear his reply to her question anymore, but he was answering nonetheless. He was praying.  
  
Shepard's own gaze dropped. The angle was enough that she could see the last of Vaia's list go scrolling by, superimposed over the asari's lifeless face. Shepard's own name was glowing there. Disgusted, she jabbed a finger at the omnitool, shutting it all off.  
  
For a minute there was only silence. Shepard leaned back against the wall, catching her breath, and then she studied the scene with a slightly more objective eye. "We're going to have to clean this up," she said distantly.  
  
Thane, his hands still pressed together, looked up. His voice, like hers, was oddly abstracted. "I've done it before."  
  
"I suppose you have."  
  
"Another difference between me and these mercenaries," he said quietly. "Vaia would never have bothered to respect the rights of the dead."  
  
Shepard supposed that was true, too. She wondered if Thane's gods, in the ultimate judgment of things, thought it counted for anything. She hoped it did.  
  
Thane stepped forward, looking down at Shepard's dormant omnitool.  
  
"Do you think anyone else had this list?" he asked. Shepard shrugged.  
  
"Other than her employer? Who knows. We can try to analyze the file, see if it's got any fingerprints. I doubt it, though. This is the sort of thing you leave to a small squad."  
  
"And as for her employer?"  
  
Shepard heard Vaia's taunt in memory -- _who do you think?_ \-- and sighed. "I think we'll find out soon enough."  
  
Without further comment, Thane nodded. Then after a moment of studying Shepard's face, apparently judging whether or not she was all right, he set to work.  
  
It wasn't until they were done sorting things out -- and if anything was to be said about Omega, it was that they did have an efficient system of incinerators -- that either of them really spoke again. That came when they walked back out through Afterlife, where the fire-patterned lights were starting to suggest something else entirely to Shepard. She made a face when she saw them.  
  
Thane watched her reaction closely. Shepard waved it off.  
  
"I'm fine. I've seen worse." She gave him, and the completely oblivious crowd around them, a wry smile. "Might have to give you a rain check on that dance, though. Not sure I'm in the mood."  
  
"Understood. But really, if what we just did proved anything…."  
  
He paused, enough that Shepard raised an eyebrow and peered up at him. Something of that sly smile from earlier had returned to his face.  
  
"I think we dance together just fine," he said.  
  
Shepard snorted, then smiled, and eventually said, "I guess we do."  
  
He took her hand for a heart-stopping moment. Both of them looked down at their intertwined fingers. "Now," he said as he considered the rest of his arm, "to hope that coat is still where I left it…."  
  
Shepard smiled wider and tugged him in the direction of the stairs. Together, they vanished into the shadows again -- just two more nameless figures in the ongoing melee that was Omega, making their own justice, and finding their own moments of respite, in whatever way they could.


End file.
